Modern Art
by driggs
Summary: When Shawn and Gus discover that an elusive street artist has stolen a valuable painting from a museum and replaced it with his own, it's up to them to figure out just who this guy is and recover the stolen work. Hints of Shawn/Lassiter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Whoa! This is my first fanfic for _Psych_. It's my first fanfic in _years_, actually. Which is totally crazy to think. But you get ideas and you know that some outlets are better than others for following through. And for whatever reason, this glimmer of an idea seemed to lend itself to the _Psych_ fandom pretty well.

So, yeah. I have a basic idea for where I'm going with this, but as a warning: this isn't done. Nor is it beta-ed. This is about as work-in-progressy as you can get. That aside...well, while I've grown to enjoy the idea of A Shawn/Lassiter pairing, I think this story is going to be a pre-slash sort of deal. So if you're not into drinking that Shassie kool-aid, this is unlikely to really offend your sentiments.

I don't own anything/all that jazz. I mean, I do own a few things, like a pair of shoes, a tiny sparkly hat, and a candy bar, but when it comes to this show, it's all in good fun. You know?

Let's get this show on the road. If anyone has any questions in regards to the art alluded to, let me know. I'm a little bit of an art dork. I won't lie.

* * *

"You don't think this looks like one of those seeing eye things, Gus? I bet if you looked hard enough, you'd see a schooner."

"Shawn, this looks nothing like those folders you had in middle school."

Shawn had crossed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, staring intently at the large canvas in front of him as he rocked back and forth on his feet. Suddenly, he jumped back and flailed his arms. "No way, dude. It's so much better than a schooner, look!"

Gus leaned in closer, but immediately recovered, furrowing his brow, and placing his hands on his hips. "There's nothing there, Shawn."

"You're just mad because you never figured out what was on those folders."

"I did too. I told you I could see the shapes just not what they were." Gus looked back at Shawn. "Plus you always ruined it and told me what it was before I figured it out."

Pointing to the painting, the corners of Shawn's mouth curled upwards. "Bear with a fez hat, by the way."

"No it's not, Shawn."

Shawn quickly took his friend's head and tilted it to the side. "If you just cross your eyes--"

Gus pulled his hands off and punched him in the shoulder, taking a few steps back in case Shawn decided to retaliate. Shawn feigned a look of hurt and rubbed his shoulder melodramatically. "Look, you told me I needed to appreciate art. I am appreciating it. You know, in my own special way."

"You're mocking it, Shawn. This painting is an important part of American history. Do you know just how influential of an artist Jackson Pollock was?"

"No, I quit that art house movie theater the week before that film was released."

Gus shot him a glare.

Shawn finally relented. "I get paintings of naked women. I get soup cans and flowers and _Washington Crossing the Delaware_. I guess I'm even ok with those weird vaginas Georgia O'Keefe painted--"

"She didn't paint vaginas, Shawn."

Exaggerating his air quotes, Shawn corrected himself, "her 'flowers.' That stuff's fine I guess. But when it comes to squares and paint splatters and canvases that are just blue, I'm not really a fan."

"You just don't like them because there aren't any clues about what the artist is trying to say."

He had to admit, sometimes he forgot just how perceptive his best friend was. Sure, Shawn didn't appreciate a lot of art. He certainly didn't appreciate it the way Gus apparently did. But growing up, besides the odd field trip to the art museum with his class or a random weekend outing with his mom, there hadn't been a lot of room in his life to cultivate that appreciation. Henry definitely hadn't included art in his lesson plan for Shawn's future career as a cop.

"Well, I'll tell you what I do like. Check out this crazy painting with the lightning bolt!" Shawn bounded over towards a smaller yellow canvas filled with a collection of odd shapes and lines. "And that's totally a pineapple. Check it out!"

"This is Kandinsky. He had synesthesia," Gus replied in his best rendition of a _Jeopardy _question-answer voice.

"What does putting people under during surgery have to do with art?"

Gus just sighed heavily. "_Synesthesia_, Shawn. He saw colors as music so that's what he painted."

Shawn cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes. "Not really a Top 40 hit in my opinion. I mean, the chorus is all wrong" Shawn noticed the information card next to the painting. "And what sort of name is 'Wassily?' That's like the name of the weird kid at school that's friends with the lunch lady."

"Oh, I thought that kid's name was Shawn."

Shawn pretended to act hurt, but that perpetual playful glint in his eyes flashed. "Dude, that's not even fair. Mrs. Fischer gave me an extra chocolate milk for free every day because we were friends."

"She gave you an extra milk because you always lied and said yours was expired."

"No use crying over stolen milk," Shawn shrugged. "Speaking of chocolate milk. This place has a cafeteria, right? All this art appreciating has inspired me to appreciate a burger. Which is a work of art in its own right."

"I hear that," Gus agreed, nodding slightly. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a museum map, which Shawn immediately scoffed at. Gus ignored him and unfolded the map, glancing over it before pointing to a large square on the second floor. "Cafeteria, second floor. Right next to the Contemporary collection."

"Unless the Contemporary gallery has some installation involving free food samples, I am not stopping until there is an expertly crafted burger in my hands."

"All right. But we're picking up where we left off after we get lunch."

Shawn barely heard the end to the sentence as he bounced off (in the wrong direction) towards the cafeteria. A guard eyed two of them warily as they entered the next exhibit room, but Shawn stopped abruptly as he noticed something in the adjacent room.

"Lassie?" Shawn asked, surprised to see the detective, who appeared to be alone, staring intently at a small photograph.

Lassiter slowly glanced up, a pained expression on his face. "Spencer," he replied brusquely, looking as though he believed ignoring Shawn would drive him away. Like what parents told kids to do when a bee was buzzing around them.

"What are you doing here?" Shawn asked, walking over to him and momentarily forgetting about his need to eat. Well, not so much forgetting as storing the thought in the to-do pile.

The taller man visibly stiffened and looked away. "I'm undercover," he said quickly through clenched teeth.

Undeterred by the porcupine act, Shawn edged even closer so that he was now right beside Lassiter. He leaned in towards the photograph and inspected it with interest. "Why Lassie! Who knew you were such a patron of the arts? Why, I bet you even paid the suggested donation price."

Exasperated, Lassiter looked down at his unwanted companion. He glanced over and saw Guster standing at the entrance to the room. Of course the two of them were there. Of course.

"Cops don't pay entrance fees," Lassiter replied quickly, stepping outside of the comfortable viewing range of the photograph.

"So you're not here undercover then?" Shawn enjoyed catching people in lies, even though it was his least favorite thing in the world when he was on the opposite end of it. Catching people in lies was almost as good as finding the toy prize at the bottom of the cereal box. He figured catching Lassiter in a lie was maybe even a little better. Except for that totally sweet decoder ring he got when he was ten.

Realizing what he'd admitted to, Lassiter attempted to amend his previous statement. "I'm not undercover. It's…more of a stakeout."

"Well, you look like you're really busy looking at this picture of a naked dude, so I'll let you get back to your stakeout." His Cheshire Cat grin played across his face as he spun around and left the room. In the wake of Shawn's obtrusive appearance, Lassiter immediately deflated. He'd have to figure out if a masseuse was covered in his insurance policy before Spencer caused his strained muscles irreparable damage. And Shawn Spencer-related injuries were unlikely to qualify him for workman's comp.

----

"You're not even remotely curious why Lassiter is hanging out in an art museum?" Shawn asked, stuffing just slightly more than a reasonable amount of fries into his mouth.

"No. I'm more interested in this collection of California artists they have in the Contemporary gallery." Gus was looking at the unfolded map intently, likely mentally charting their course through the white rooms of the museum.

Shawn was more intent on figuring out why Lassiter, the least cultured person he knew, would be hanging out alone in an art museum, staring at photographs by himself. It hadn't even been a photo of a gun, which would have made sense. As far as he knew, there weren't even any gun-related pieces in the museum, making the detective's appearance even more of an anomaly. If there was one thing he'd been conditioned to find interesting, it was anomalies.

"Do you think he was on a date and got ditched?" Shawn asked aloud, needing to verbalize his thought process.

"Why would he stay if he got ditched?"

"Good point. Since he didn't pay the suggested donation." Shawn replied. "Which you don't actually have to do, seeing as how it's 'suggested' and all."

Gus looked up, a flash of annoyance swiftly washing over his features. "If everyone thought like you, they'd have to close the museum due to lack of funds."

"Maybe I'm just a revolutionary, Gus."

"That's anarchy, Shawn. It's important to support the arts."

"Yeah, yeah," Shawn said, glancing out the large glass windows. It was still bugging him that Lassiter was in the museum, doing a very un-Lassiter sort of activity. Unless he actually was on a stakeout and was just acting weird for no reason.

"Has anything been stolen from the museum recently?" Shawn asked suddenly.

"Not in Santa Barbara," Gus replied, not looking up from the map.

"So that rules out a stakeout."

"No, wait," Gus interjected, folding the map quickly. "Not in Santa Barbara, but there's this street artist--I forget his name. He's been going to museums and galleries on the West Coast and hanging up his own paintings."

"That's not really illegal, though. It's just annoying."

"No, Shawn. It's brilliant. Think of the statement he's making about how we contextualize art in the gallery format."

"What? Gus, no. We're not doing any of this theory stuff right now, we're enjoying burgers."

"Well, it sounds an awful lot like you're trying to discuss theories with this whole Lassiter situation. Maybe the guy just likes art. Some people are cultured, you know."

Shawn shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"Why don't you just forget about it?"

"Do people rehearse for dates? Maybe he's taking a date here and he wants to pretend like he knows something about art."

"That seems a little desperate, Shawn." Gus picked at the few remaining bits of his lunch.

"Juliet did say he'd been striking out with the ladies. Maybe he's past the point of desperation."

"Why are you talking to Juliet about Lassiter's dating habits?"

Shawn shook his head. "Trust me, I wasn't the one that brought it up."

"Let's just drop it. I want to check out a few more exhibits before the museum closes."

Acquiescing, Shawn stood up as the two of them bussed their own trays. He half-heartedly followed a determined Gus back into the gallery, but his mind was still reeling, trying to determine why exactly Lassiter was at the museum alone on a Saturday, likely on his day off. So completely of his own volition.

As Gus made his way through the rooms, inspecting every painting as if it were a new car he was thinking about buying, Shawn made an effort to keep himself entertained by wandering around until something brightly colored caught his eye. The Contemporary collection didn't have a whole lot of that going on, so he did more aimless walking than stopping.

He passed by a small painting of an Astro-Pop and stopped. A popsicle sounded like a good idea. Too bad that poor attempt at a cafeteria had nothing of the sort (not even remotely close). He glanced at the information card on the wall next to it briefly before doing a double take. Shawn looked at it closely and grinned, taking off towards where he'd remembered leaving Gus.

Gus was standing in front of a giant painting of a neon beer sign, absolutely motionless.

"Dude, I found Waldo," Shawn said, just a little too loudly.

Gus, annoyed, turned towards his friend. "What are you talking about?"

"That guy. The guy that puts his stuff in museums. He's got one here!"

Gus shook his head. "There's no way, Shawn. One of his paintings was found in Seattle yesterday."

"That doesn't mean he put it up yesterday, it just means he got caught yesterday. Plus, who's to say he did this recently? Maybe no one's noticed and it's been up for awhile?"

"How do you even know it's him? You hadn't even heard of this guy until I told you about him."

"Look, dude, I'll show you how I know. Come on!"

Gus followed Shawn quickly as he sprung off towards the Astro-Pop painting. Gus looked at it, clearly unconvinced.

"Gus, these information cards, look at them," Shawn said, pointing to the cards next to adjacent paintings. "They're a slightly brighter white and it looks like the font on them is slightly smaller."

Instead of comparing the cards, Gus stepped forward and stared at the corner of the painting. "This is him, Shawn."

"Wait, what are you looking at?" Shawn edged in closer, trying to figure out what exactly it was that Gus was focused on so intently.

Pointing towards a small symbol in the corner that nearly blended in with the background. It looked like a pitchfork.

"Dante, that's his name," Gus suddenly supplied.

"The information card says Michel-Jean Taiuqsab," Shawn said, frowning.

Gus looked at the card as his face fell into one of deep contemplation. "Jean-Michel Basquiat. He was a graffiti artist…which is what Dante started out as. This is an homage…they must all be homages to other artists!"

"But I thought you said this guy didn't steal art," Shawn said, leaning in closer towards the name card.

"He doesn't. That's not part of his work."

Shawn tore the fake card off of the wall, revealing a card for another piece. A piece that clearly wasn't there any more. "It looks like it is now."

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I was definitely not expecting to get a new chapter up so soon. I feel like I'm spoiling you folks--I swear I'm not normally this productive. Enjoy! Tell me what you think!

* * *

Shawn and Gus sat on the museum's steps licking popsicles and watching the organized chaos of the police department slowly engulf them.

"This seems like overkill. The painting Dante took isn't even by a well-known artist," Gus said as he noticed yet another squad car pull up.

"The painting was called _Three Flags_. Does that mean anything to you?" Shawn asked, thinking about the information card that had been hidden beneath Dante's fake.

"I don't think so. I'd never even heard of the artist before," Gus replied. "It was a recent work, too."

The information card for the stolen painting had said it was by an artist called Sidney Roma, born 1970, with the work (done with oil paint) having been completed in 2002. While Shawn may not have been an art connoisseur, he was confident that had this been a significant artist, he would know. Or at least Gus would.

"Dante isn't Dante's real name, right?" Shawn asked as the wheels in his slowly began to turn. He was blaming brain freeze on their inability to fire up quickly.

Gus looked over at him. "It could be. Dante is just the pseudonym he goes by. Why?"

"Is it possible Dante could be Sidney Roma?"

Gus seemed to consider for a moment. "It's possible, but it's not likely. Why would Dante steal his own work?"

"I don't know, it could be like an art thing?"

Gus's jaw dropped. "That's brilliant. Replacing his work with his own work? If that's what happened, it could turn the art world upside down."

"Dude, the 'art world'? Who are you?"

Turning away from Shawn, Gus raised his chin haughtily. "I go to First Friday events at galleries around the city, Shawn. I talk to a lot of people in the arts."

"You talk to the doctors that go to these gallery openings, don't you?"

Gus looked annoyed and it was evident Shawn had figured him out entirely. "Maybe doctors happen to be there, but a lot of affluent people from the community go to events like that."

"And since you're not an affluent member of the community, nor have you ever told me about going out with a woman who was even vaguely artistic, I'm guessing galleries are a good place to move product?"

Gus didn't answer.

Shawn smirked and bit off the last part of the popsicle, tossing the stick into the bushes behind him. "That's what I thought."

A familiar red Crown Victoria pulled up to the front of the museum. Both Lassiter and Juliet stepped out of the car. Shawn was curious as to how Lassiter had escaped the museum long enough ago to have been able to pick up Juliet and come back.

"Back so soon?" Shawn called out, standing as the two detectives approached. Lassiter ignored him. Or maybe he just hadn't heard him. Shawn was beginning to suspect the detective was becoming a little too good at tuning him out.

"Shawn, why are you here?" Juliet asked, taking off her sunglasses.

Shawn looked over at Lassiter whose face showed a look of casual indifference. He needed to be riled up. "Lassie didn't tell you? He took me on a date here earlier before he ditched me to do the whole detective thing. We spent a long time appreciating Roman sculpture." Shawn watched Lassiter carefully, trying to see how far he could push. "That Augustus Caesar? Kind of a dreamboat."

Juliet looked over at her partner. Lassiter, to his credit, only had the generalized look of annoyance on his face instead of a more specific one related to actually having run into Shawn earlier in the day at the museum.

"This is a crime scene now, Spencer. The museum's closed," Lassiter finally said, with only a sliver of the acerbic tone he usually addressed Shawn with. "So it's time for you to scoot."

"Scoot? Lassie, I have no scooter with which to scoot. Plus, Gus and I aren't actually in the museum so the fact that it's closed isn't really a big deal."

"Spencer, don't make me arrest you for trespassing." With that simple empty threat, Lassiter jogged up the stairs and briskly entered the museum.

"Dude, what's up with Lassie? Usually we have a great verbal ping pong match like Forrest Gump and that Chinese guy, but that was pretty lackluster," Shawn asked, looking over at Juliet.

"Well, Lassiter was called in on his day off. Apparently the mayor is good friends with the museum director which is why we've got so much manpower on this."

Shawn refrained from making a joke about the fact that she'd just used the word manpower (really, he got a lot of guff for the things that came out of his mouth, but if only they knew how much he didn't say out loud) and considered. "Well, you know Gus and I are always willing to offer our services--"

"And you know I'm not authorized to hire you to consult," Juliet smirked. "But I might mention it to the chief."

Shawn watched as Juliet hurried up the stairs and into the museum. He turned back to Gus, who was holding onto his popsicle stick. "Why haven't you tossed that? There's no joke on it."

"I'm not going to litter, Shawn," Gus replied.

"Gus, it's made from wood. From the wood of the popsicle stick tree. What's more natural than that?"

Gus merely shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "There's no such thing as a popsicle stick tree."

"Not with that attitude there's not." Shawn stood up and stretched his arms. "We need to go figure out who this Dante person is. And I think finding Sidney Roma might be the place to start."

Shawn pulled his iphone out of his back pocket and pulled up the browser. Doing a quick search for Sidney Roma brought up the gallery that represented the artist as being the Anapamu Gallery. "You know where the Anapamu Gallery is Gus?"

"Yeah, it's where I got Dr. Klein to--I mean, I went to an event there a few weeks ago."

"Then let's go check it out," Shawn replied, taking off before he'd completed the sentence.

----

"Is anything else missing from the museum?" Lassiter asked as Juliet dutifully took down notes.

The museum's director, Frederick Hofstein, was a short man, rather stocky, but impeccably dressed in a tweed jacket and a cravat. He didn't look remarkably upset about the fact that an item was missing from his museum and that piqued Lassiter's interest.

"We haven't been able to take inventory of the exhibition galleries yet, but as far as I know only the Roma work is missing," the director replied, his voice unwavering.

"How valuable was the work that was stolen?" Lassiter asked, glancing around the room where the painting had been taken. All of the work in the room was by artists that were still producing work, with none of the pieces being particularly old or even noteworthy.

"I imagine less valuable that what it was replaced with. I've spoken with a few other directors of major museums on the West Coast and all of them have been hoping for a Dante original," Hofstein said, almost looking giddy about the fact that his museum had been graced with one of the street artist's "fake" pieces. "It's rather quite a deal--Dante's work is in such high demand, but you can't just purchase it from the artist. We're rather honored he chose to grace us with his work here."

Lassiter shook his head. "So the fact that a piece that you used museum funds to acquire is missing doesn't matter to you?"

Juliet glanced up at the director who, to his credit, was now attempting to maintain his collected demeanor.

"No, no, of course I'm upset that there was a breach in security that allowed this painting to be taken," the director replied hurriedly. "It's just that, well, this is a real _coup de grace _for this museum, detective. You can't fault me for appreciating the work we've been gifted."

Lassiter let the director see that he found the sentiment acceptable, but there was still something off about Hofstein not being more concerned about the missing work. Especially considering how many officers were currently going through the museum and interviewing staff. This was a huge waste of department resources for a man who was rather indifferent about the crime. And the perfect example of waste and bureaucracy from the Mayor's office.

"Thank you, Mr. Hofstein, we'll be in touch," Lassiter replied, shaking the director's hand. He led Juliet away, but watched the director out of the corner of his eye.

"Why are we here if this doesn't matter to him?" she asked her partner, obviously just as perturbed as he was.

"I think we need to figure out why exactly it doesn't matter to him. I don't buy it for a second that he'd trade a piece from his collection for this Dante work, regardless of the notoriety it'll bring the museum."

"You think something else is going on here?"

Lassiter nodded. "I think he had something to do with this."

----

As Shawn and Gus entered the Anapamu gallery, Shawn knew immediately he was out of his element as he saw the stark white and the modern angles and curves of the architecture. The receptionist sat at a plain desk metal desk. She wore all black, her short haircut accentuating the sharp angles of her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked, glancing over the two of them with a look that read _you don't fit in here_.

"Hi, I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my associate Wilhelm Chauncy," Shawn said, grinning widely. "I'm a psychic art dealer."

The look on her face showed only slight surprise. "Psychic art dealer?"

"Yes, I have a knack for picking out the next big artist. Wilhelm, why don't you tell her about the last guy I discovered."

Gus stepped forward and cleared his throat. "The last artist he discovered just won the Painting Prize at the Venice Biennale."

This information did surprise her. "That's rather impressive. Are you here because you're interested in one of our artists?"

Shawn nodded. "Absolutely. I'm absolutely enamored with Sidney Roma, who I believe is one of the artists your gallery represents?"

The receptionist's face fell. "Sidney Roma? We haven't exhibited her work here in three years."

Shawn wasn't expecting that answer. "Oh. Um. Do you know how we might be able to get in touch with Ms. Roma?"

"Let me check the database to see how current our contact information for her is." She turned towards the computer on her desk and swiftly began typing on the keyboard, a rhythmic clacking to her frenetic typing pace. "We do still represent her, but the only contact information we have for her is the studio where she works."

Shawn turned to Gus. "Would you mind writing that information down for us? This could be one of the greatest discoveries for the art world since Carlos Dali."

"You mean Salvador Dalí?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She scribbled the information down on a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn replied, taking the address from her. "Thank you very much for your time."

Looking over the address as they exited the gallery, Shawn turned to Gus. "Well, the studio's on State Street, so it's actually not too far away from here."

"What makes you think Sidney Roma will even be there? It's a Saturday. Even artists have weekends, Shawn."

Shawn shrugged. "I mean, it's worth a try, right?"

The two men headed towards State Street, not bothering to get back in the car since it wasn't too far away from where they were. Shawn made them stop for churros from a street vendor, which slowed their pace slightly, but it wasn't long before they arrived at the converted factory space which apparently served as artist studios for a larger collective.

There was a buzzer on the door with a directory of the people who had space in the building by last name. Shawn rang Roma's buzzer, but just as Gus had predicted, there was no answer.

"See Shawn? Maybe we should come back on Monday."

"There's got to be some other way in here. Factories don't just have one door. And this door wouldn't even be big enough for larger works to be brought out."

"We are not breaking into this building, Shawn."

"Gus, don't be the unsatisfying series finale to the hit NBC show _Night Court_," Shawn smirked, heading off to check out the back of the building. Gus followed him, reluctantly.

Around the back was a larger service entrance, which was open and led to a larger storage facility. There were large doors towards the back, which Shawn noticed were slightly ajar. "Yahtzee."

They quickly ran into the building, hoping not to attract any attention from anyone who might be working that day.

"Roma's studio is on the first floor. Number 8, it looks like," Shawn told Gus as he looked at the address he'd been given.

Towards the end of the hallway they saw a door that was opened slightly. As they approached, Shawn noticed that the open studio was in fact the one he had listed. He pushed back the door slightly, entering the space.

"Hello? Sidney Roma?" Shawn asked, looking around at the large space. It was full of not only canvases of all sizes, but also tons of different varieties of paints, scrap pieces of metal and wood, bits of junk, old bikes and electronics.

"Shawn, there's paint all over the floor, if you get it on your shoes, you're not allowed back in my car," Gus warned, stepping carefully onto the stained drop cloth.

Shawn looked down at the floor. His face fell as he realized what it was. "Gus, that's not paint."

"I don't care what it is, if you get it in my car, you're paying to have my rugs shampooed."

Then Shawn saw another thing he wasn't expecting. Poking out from behind one of the larger piles of junk was a limp, pale arm. "That's blood."

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks you guys for the lovely reviews/favs/alerts! This chapter is a little short, but mostly because I cut it in half. Which is evil, I know. But if you're holding out for some awesome Shawn/Lassiter times...whoo boy. That's coming next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Within twenty minutes, the cops and CSU had arrived. It took awhile for Lassiter and Juliet to show up to the studio, which Shawn figured probably had something to do with the fact that a good deal of the department's resources were still being poured into the museum theft.

"Why would someone want Sidney Roma dead?" Shawn asked, looking over at Gus.

Gus looked like he was fighting to keep down the churro from earlier. "I don't know. Maybe they figured out she was Dante?"

"We don't even know that for sure yet," Shawn replied. They had been kicked out of the studio since it was a crime scene. And since Shawn had known it was a crime scene almost as soon as they'd arrived, he hadn't done any poking around to check out Roma's work. "The best we've got right now is someone really hating Sidney Roma."

"But she hasn't even had an exhibit in three years. Why kill her all of a sudden?"

Shawn thought about it. "They wouldn't. Unless she was actually Dante. And who would want to kill Dante?"

"Probably a lot of people. Mostly artists, though. Maybe museum curators?" Gus supplied.

"Museum curators. Gus, what if the theft was an inside job?"

"You're saying you don't think Dante did it?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. If stealing had never been part of the act to begin with, why start now?"

Gus considered the question. "Honing her craft?"

Shawn thought about the Dante painting that he'd seen in the gallery. Nothing about an Astro-Pop seemed particularly mean-spirited. Dante was a trickster persona that played with the conventions of the art world, but it wasn't a malevolent one. "I don't think so, Gus. Someone else's hands are in this cake."

"Cake?"

Shawn reconsidered. "Someone else's hands are on this paint brush?"

Gus nodded, satisfied with the revised metaphor. "And it has to be someone from the museum?"

"It has to be an inside job or else it would've been spotted earlier."

"Then it could be a guard," Gus replied.

Shawn pointed at his friend. "Maybe the guard for that exhibition room happened to know Sidney Roma?"

As the two of them started to leave, they noticed Buzz McNab walking towards them briskly with a file in hand.

"Buzz, what's up?" Shawn asked, greeting the officer.

Buzz smiled broadly. "Oh, hey guys! I didn't realize the Chief had put you on this case?"

Shawn shook his head and laughed. "No, she hasn't. Something drew me down to this studio earlier."

"You got a vibe about the artist?" Buzz asked, the look on his face somewhere halfway between being serious and in awe.

"The spirit world just wouldn't leave me alone after we found out that painting had been stolen," Shawn replied.

Buzz's face fell. "That's strange. It actually turns out that the Roma painting was in another exhibit hall."

Shawn looked over at Gus. This threw their theory right out the window. "Was it misplaced?"

"Well, someone must've moved it. But the weird thing is that there's another more valuable painting by the same title that's missing." Buzz held up the folder. "That's actually why I'm here."

Shawn took in the recent development. A security guard seemed like an even more likely suspect now. "Gus and I are going to go in with you, I think I'm starting to get something."

The promise of a psychic vision seemed to excite the young officer and he happily allowed them to accompany him back into the studio.

As they entered, Lassiter immediately noticed. "Spencer, I thought we told you earlier that we don't want you on this case."

Shawn held up a hand to stop him. "Lassie, it's not a matter of being wanted. I mean, of course it's nice and all, but it comes down to being _needed_."

Lassiter merely rolled his eyes. "We don't need--"

Shawn's arm shot out and he grabbed on to Gus's shoulder. "I'm getting something," he yelled. "Gouda? No…gourd! Follow the drinking gourd?" Shawn looked over at Gus and then back at Lassiter. "Wait, it's not a food. A guard?"

"A security guard?" Gus finished.

"Shawn, what are you trying to say?" Juliet asked, looking nearly as exasperated as Lassiter.

It was at this moment that Buzz brought the folder over to the two lead detectives. "It looks like the Roma painting was misplaced. But there's a different painting with the same title that is missing."

Lassiter looked over at Juliet and then back at Buzz. "The only other _Three Flags_ is a Jasper Johns painting the museum has on loan from a museum in New York."

Juliet looked at her partner, clearly impressed. "How'd you know about that one?"

Shawn watched as Lassiter fought to cover up this random bit of knowledge he had provided. "I must've…read it on the inventory list or something."

Shawn filed away this answer for later. He didn't buy it.

Lassiter rifled through the folder McNab had given him as a crime scene technician walked over to Juliet with a clear plastic bag containing some sort of blood-stained metal object.

"Looks like the murder weapon, detective," the tech said, handing over the bag.

"Gus, what is that?" Shawn whispered.

"It looks like a palette knife. You use it while painting."

"It doesn't look very sharp," Shawn said, looking at the knife.

"They aren't used for cutting, so they aren't sharp," Gus replied.

Shawn frowned. "We need to go talk to the guard that works that room before Jules and Lassiter do."

----

Shawn always found that if he walked confidently and with purpose, he could walk into pretty much anywhere. He usually preferred to sneak in places, but sometimes the sneakiest thing he could do was pretend like he belonged somewhere he didn't.

The police presence had dissipated by the following morning and Shawn and Gus were able to walk past the guard at the front who was collecting tickets. While the museum may have been "suggested donation" only, they still required you to go to the front desk to get a ticket to see the galleries. Perhaps in an effort to guilt people (like Gus) into paying the full price of the suggested donation cost. Gus, to his credit, didn't even flinch as they walked past the main guard and of course, no one stopped them as they did so.

In the contemporary gallery where the Dante piece had been found, the Roma painting was again hanging on the wall. Shawn wondered what had happened to the Astro-Pop painting and if the museum would keep it or get rid of it.

Noticing the guard standing in the corner, a gangly twenty-something guy, Shawn walked up to him. The guard looked as if he was uncomfortable with the interaction.

"Can I help you with something?" the kid asked (and he did in fact look like a kid).

"Do you usually work in this room?" Shawn asked, noticing how the guy was already starting to fidget.

"We rotate, but I usually work on this floor." The guard looked at the two of them warily.

"You're familiar with this Dante guy and what he does, right?"

There was a quick flash of something akin to awe in the guy's eyes. "Of course I am. The dude's like an American Banksy."

Shawn looked over to Gus for a translation. "Banksy's a British graffiti artist. He put his own work up in the Louvre a few years ago."

The guard nodded. "He's more known for the graffiti stuff, like Dante. Are you guys cops?"

Shawn and Gus looked over at each other and laughed. "Us, cops? No way," Shawn replied. "Just…interested in the arts, man."

"The director thinks we're going to get a lot of buzz because of the Dante painting. I don't think he gets the point though."

"What's the point?" At this the guard became very serious. "None of this stuff means anything. And here I am, guarding it like it's gold. Paintings are of theoretical and aesthetic importance, not monetary. Capitalism and the art world should have never met, but I guess that's the downfall of the society we live in. "

"You sound like you really know what's up?" Shawn asked, almost impressed by the kid's stance on art.

"This just pays the bills. But I went to school for painting."

"Are you familiar with Sidney Roma at all?"

The kid looked away. "Yeah, she worked the local scene a bit. She hasn't done anything in a few years."

Shawn looked at him, sure there was more to it. "What did you think of her work?"

He cleared his throat and looked around. "It was good. But she hasn't distilled it down to its essential purpose yet. Maybe that's why she's on hiatus?"

Gus patted Shawn on the shoulder to get his attention. He heard the footsteps before he saw who they belonged to. Whoever was coming was coming with a purpose.

Rounding the corner, Lassiter and Juliet walked into the room swiftly. Shawn noticed Lassiter already had cuffs in hand and cursed softly to himself. In this brief time, he'd already figured out that this kid had nothing to do with the murder, even though he did have some sort of connection to Roma. The fact that he'd spoken of Roma in the present tense was perhaps the biggest giveaway.

"Mark Field?" Lassiter asked, walking up to the guard.

The kid nodded, looking at Shawn and Gus as if he'd been betrayed by them. "I thought you guys said you weren't cops."

Before Shawn could respond, Lassiter looked over at the fake psychic and his friend and then back at the kid with a scowl. "They're not. You're under arrest for the murder of Sidney Roma."

At this, the kid's face fell. "Sidney…Sidney's dead?" He looked back at Shawn for help as Lassiter cuffed him. "Why didn't you tell me Sidney was dead?"

"Maybe they figured you already knew about it," Lassiter replied, pushing the kid towards a uniformed officer. "Your prints were all over the murder weapon."

Lassiter left with the officer and the kid as Juliet stayed behind.

"His prints were on that knife?"

Juliet nodded. "Weren't you the one that told us it was the guard? His prints were all over the studio, Shawn. It doesn't look good."

"Jules, there's no way he did it. That kid didn't look strong enough to open a bottle of jelly let alone kill someone with a blunt object."

"I'm sorry, Shawn," she replied, giving him a frustrated frown. "But we've got to go with what the evidence tells us, not whatever circumstantial vibes you're getting."

Shawn nodded. Juliet took off after her partner as Shawn looked over at the Roma piece. "There's got to be some reason why his prints were there, Gus. There's no way that kid killed Roma."

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** We've got a little bit of that Shawn/Lassiter action going on with this chapter. And if this merely whets your appetite, there's some really juicy stuff coming up within the next few chapters. Think of this as the 100-calorie pack snack.

And once again: thanks for the reviews/alerts/favs. It's nice to know that you folks are enjoying it!

* * *

"How long have you worked at the museum?" Lassiter asked, looking down at the file in front of him. The kid's resume was there, of course. But he had to ease into the real line of questioning with this one.

Mark looked up, his eyes watering so slightly that if he wasn't being interrogated, it's likely it would've been missed.. It was hard to see him as anything but a kid, even though he was apparently 24.

"I uh, I got a job there about a year ago." His voice was rough.

"Is that where you met Ms. Roma?"

Again, he stared down at the table in front of him. "No."

"Where'd you meet her?"

This must've struck a nerve with him. He looked towards the two-way mirror and then back at the table. He was avoiding eye contact in whatever way he could. "I don't know how to answer that without it making me look bad."

"We're filing charges against you for first degree murder. It's hard to look worse than that," Lassiter replied bluntly.

"I saw her work…at the museum. It reminded me a lot of another artist, so I wanted to know what the influences were for it. I-I looked her up and went to her studio."

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. No wonder the kid didn't want to say anything.

"When was this?"

"I didn't work up the courage until about four months ago," he replied, wiping his face.

"And then what happened?" Lassiter wasn't entirely interested in this backstory, just in whether the two had a relationship. There was still no real motive, despite his prints on the palette knife.

"She uh, she said that she didn't usually get a lot of notice for her work, despite the museum having acquired one of her pieces. We got to talking and she ended up hiring me as a studio assistant."

Lassiter nodded. "How would you describe your relationship with Ms. Roma?"

"Relationship?" Mark looked confused.

"Platonic? Or was it something more?" Lassiter was hoping for a spurned lover sort of deal. Those cases always made things more interesting.

Choking back a laugh, the kid shook his head. "It was platonic. Sidney is--was gay."

"Doesn't mean she didn't sleep with men every so often," Lassiter replied, almost too quickly.

Mark looked at him seriously. "I don't think you know what gay means."

At this, Lassiter rolled his eyes. He didn't need a bleeding heart lecture from a kid who barely looked old enough to drive. "Fine. So, you worked for Ms. Roma at her studio. How often?"

"She hadn't been working there very often. She said she was working on other things, sort of bigger projects that couldn't be contained in that space. She told me I could use the space for free if I just cleaned up after myself."

"So why kill her?" Lassiter snuck it in finally, hoping that the simple line of questioning had calmed the kid enough to get into the real purpose of the interrogation.

Mark looked near tears again. "I didn't kill Sidney. Why would I? She gave me a place to work, she supplemented my income…she even put me in touch with a few of her gallery contacts. They didn't pan out, but she was helping me."

"I think you were jealous of her success. She wasn't much older than you, but she was already part of a museum's permanent collection. Why not kill her? That's one less person for you to compete with," Lassiter supplied calmly, with a small smug smile on his face.

Shaking his head furiously, Mark slammed his fist down on the table. Lassiter hadn't thought the kid had it in him to get really riled up, but apparently this had done it. "She told me she was working on something big. Something that she wasn't sure people were ready for yet. Why would I kill an artist before they'd released their masterpiece?"

"To take the credit for yourself?"

"I didn't even know what it was!"

Lassiter remained calm. "So you say. Now tell me, if we search your apartment, are we going to find that missing painting?"

"You're charging me with theft, too? One bogus charge isn't enough? I want a lawyer."

Lassiter frowned. He was hoping he would be able to go longer without the legal request, considering the kid's age and apparent naïveté. He merely nodded, frustrated. Then he picked up his folder and left the room.

Juliet was waiting for him in the hallway, having just come out of the observation room. "They just did a sweep of his apartment. No sign of that missing painting. Why'd you even bring that one up?"

Lassiter shook his head. "He's poor, young and smart. He would've seen that the Roma painting was misplaced and taken the opportunity to walk with the much more valuable piece."

"It seems sketchy at best, Carlton," she replied, looking back at the door to the interrogation room.

"If that was a pun, O'Hara, so help me--"

Juliet shrugged. "Completely unintentional. Something about this doesn't seem right."

"His prints are over the entire studio. The murder weapon. His motive may be flimsy, but there's still motive there," Lassiter replied, handing over the folder. "If you think you can get something better out of him, you can deal with the lawyer."

Juliet watched her partner walk down the hallway. She couldn't prove it, but from that last look he'd given her, she was pretty sure that he wasn't convinced the kid did it either.

----

Despite the fact that Gus claimed he had to "work" or whatever it was that he did when he wasn't solving cases, Shawn went back to the museum to see if he could finally link Roma and Dante together somehow. He wasn't sure exactly what it was going to prove yet, but he knew that it would make things a whole lot easier if he could. Or, at least, he felt like it could.

The only problem, of course, was that while Shawn was really great at picking out clues and anomalies, comparing two pieces of art wasn't really his strongpoint. In fact, without Gus's odd fascination and reverence for art, he wasn't entirely sure that he'd be able to link the two artists on his own.

Once again walking with a sense of purpose, Shawn slipped by the guard at the entrance again and made his way up to the contemporary gallery. He hoped that the supposedly missing Roma piece had been hung up.

What Shawn didn't expect was once again stumbling upon his favorite surly detective. It was like Christmas had come early.

Shawn noticed Lassiter was in front of a large painting with muted colors that blended into each other this. The detective was closer to the painting than Shawn thought was allowed (at least, he was always yelled at whenever he got too close to something). He couldn't help himself, he needed to talk to him. Even if it was to simply give Lassiter his daily recommended allowance of Shawn Spencer.

"Do you get this?" Shawn asked. He noticed he had pulled Lassiter out of whatever mellowed state he'd been in and instantly regretted interrupting him. Shawn didn't see Lassiter calm like this often. It was almost as if he'd been meditating.

Lassiter looked over and Shawn saw that he had absolutely ruined the experience for the detective. "This is Rothko, Spencer. But I don't imagine you'd appreciate it."

"I must've been the only one who didn't take art history in high school," Shawn muttered, looking at the blobs of color on the canvas and still not understanding the appeal.

"I almost minored in it during college," Lassiter replied softly and Shawn looked over at him to see if the detective's face would confirm the admission he just made. Much to his shock, it did. "I was three classes away from fulfilling the requirements for the minor. But…I decided it wasn't pertinent to my career goals and I dropped it."

There was a longing in Lassiter's eyes, in his entire being really, that Shawn instantly knew meant the man wasn't being entirely honest. He knew Lassiter was a bit of a history buff, but he figured his Civil War reenactment excursions were more thanks to the fact that he got to ride a horse and fire antique weaponry than because he had a passion for the historical significance. Sometimes he really didn't give Lassiter enough credit.

"So, what about this is so great?" Shawn asked finally, hoping that he could draw Lassiter outside of himself.

"You have to stand really close to it…close enough that it engulfs your entire scope of vision." Lassiter moved out of the way so that Shawn could stand where he'd been.

Shawn shuffled into position and got as close as he could. "Look out for the guards, they don't like it when I get too close."

"Probably because you're also reaching out at the same time as you move forward," Lassiter replied, a faint edge of levity creeping into his voice. "Now stand still. And just…just look at it."

Shawn looked at it. The hazy edges of the black, white, and maroon fading into the softer red background. Suddenly he saw its depth. He knew the painting was flat. There was no attempt at perspective. But there it was in front of him, an endless plane. "Cool," he said finally, smiling slightly as he stepped back.

He glanced over at Lassiter and caught the briefest ghost of a smile on the other man's face before it disappeared and was replaced by that pinched look of annoyance he donned whenever Shawn was around. He enjoyed looking through the cracks when it came to Lassiter. It was really the only reason he teased him so mercilessly.

"Sometimes the painting's not about what it's supposed to be. Sometimes it's just about how it makes you feel."

Shawn watched intently as Lassiter looked fondly at the massive canvas in front of them. There was something vaguely intimate about this that made Shawn slightly uncomfortable. This was something Lassiter was passionate about. Apparently_ really_ passionate about, in a different way than Gus was. But it was ultimately a private experience that he'd barged in on. Guilt wasn't an emotion Shawn came by naturally, as hard as the Catholic church had tried to instill it in him as a kid. But right now he felt guilty that he was witnessing this intense personal experience that Lassiter was having.

Though, from the looks of it, even though Lassiter was trying as hard as he could to make it seem like he was really annoyed by Shawn's presence, there was something in the softness of his features that told Shawn that he was more than happy to have the intrusion. Shawn figured Lassiter couldn't tell a whole lot of people the correct way to look at a Rothko painting without them completely missing the point. The fact that Shawn had experienced that brief flicker of understanding had obviously given Lassiter a bit of joy, even if it was fleeting.

Shawn liked that he was able to make Lassiter smile a genuine smile, even if it was one that he attempted to hide.

"So this is the second time you're just hanging out in the museum for seemingly no reason," Shawn said finally, raising an eyebrow.

Lassiter looked over at him. "This time it is actually work related. I just got…distracted."

"So that other time wasn't a stakeout?" Shawn had figured this out, of course. But hearing verbal confirmation of it was also nice.

"No. Sometimes I go to museums. That's what normal people do."

Shawn opened his mouth to give his dissenting opinion.

"No, you're not a normal person. So whatever you were about to say isn't relevant." Lassiter gave him a quirky half-smile. "I came to take a look at the Sidney Roma painting to see if there's any connection to the Johns painting that was stolen."

Shawn nodded. "Is there?"

"Vague references. I see more Rauschenberg in her work than Johns."

"Like those ink blot tests that psychologists give you?"

Lassiter cocked his head to the side. "Rorschach tests?"

"No, he's that guy from _Watchmen_," Shawn replied.

Lassiter shook his head, looking like he was beginning to get vaguely frustrated. "Rauschenberg was one of Johns' contemporaries. They were…Neo-Dadaists. Among other things."

"Oh, like that urinal guy?" Shawn asked, smiling.

At this, Lassiter merely shook his head in defeat. "Of course you're familiar with _The Fountain_ and Duchamp. Of all the art movements of the last century, it's the most Shawn Spencer-friendly."

"What can I say, I like toilet humor. He did the Mona Lisa with a mustache too, right?"

Lassiter nodded. "Yeah, _L.H.O.O.Q. _But Rauschenberg and Johns weren't Neo-Dadaists in that respect. It's more about their use of found objects as opposed to solely canvas like the modernists. Rauschenberg worked with a lot of collage, like Ms. Roma's work."

Shawn suddenly realized that Lassiter was an even better resource for this case than he'd initially thought. The guy apparently knew his stuff. Gus might've been fond of Dante's work, but he wouldn't necessarily know how to connect the two artists (if they even could be connected). "Are you familiar with Dante's work?"

Lassiter shrugged. "Not incredibly. I don't really have the time to keep up with contemporary movements."

"But…could you compare two different works to see if there's any connection?"

"Spencer, what are you getting at?"

Shawn sighed. "I think Dante was an alias of Sidney Roma. I think she hadn't been actively exhibiting work because she was developing the Dante stuff."

Unexpectedly, Lassiter's eyes widened as if a connection had just been made in his head. "The pitchfork symbol."

Shawn grinned widely. "Don't tell me--"

"It's…it's small, but there's a clipping from a newspaper in the Roma _Three Flags_ that had a picture of a pitchfork. The piece is apparently third in a series of works and the last one that Roma produced before she stopped producing new work." Lassiter smiled now too. "But all that does is connect Roma and Dante…and there's no motive here to steal the Johns piece nor is there motive to murder Roma."

"There is," Shawn said. "It's just not impersonal like we think. And the stolen painting isn't the motive…it's a message."

"So it's not the guard," Lassiter replied, saying aloud what Shawn had been thinking almost since he'd pretended to have a vision about the security guard.

Shawn shook his head.

Lassiter frowned. "I can't let him go just because you say it's not him, though. We've got evidence. We can piece together motive with his being an aspiring artist."

"So you're just going to give up on him like that? Because there's no better alternative?"

"Shawn, I have a job to do. And part of that job involves rules. Which I know is hard for you to comprehend--"

"Only when it involves charging an innocent kid with murder. Do you ever think about how many innocent people you've sent to jail?" Shawn hadn't meant to become so accusatory towards Lassiter, but this attitude towards his job was the exact same attitude that Henry had approached his lessons with. There was no room for grey in their world of black and white. Shawn preferred to live in the grey areas.

Lassiter looked away from Shawn's harsh gaze. "It's easy to be righteously indignant when you're looking at things from the outside," he said finally. And, unwilling to take the conversation any further, he turned and left the gallery.

Shawn watched the detective go. How easy it was for things to turn from good to bad. Sometimes he wished it wasn't so easy for him to voice his opinions with no regard for the consequences.

Now that he had some stylistic confirmation that Dante and Roma were connected, he needed to find out what it meant that the Johns work was missing. He needed to have a chat with the museum director somehow.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** It's been a few days...this is probably more of the norm for how often I'll be updating. My new year's resolution is to get a new job and since I'm nearing the end of my belated holiday vacation (I worked Christmas & New Year's Eve...hence the whole 'needing a new job' thing), I'm gonna be hardcore job hunting when I get home. So enjoy this bit, folks! And, as always, leave some love. Or criticism, I appreciate that too!

* * *

"Carlton, what's up?" came O'Hara's concerned voice upon her partner's arrival at the station.

Lassiter shrugged off his blazer as he slid into his chair, looking at the mound of paperwork on his desk. This was the less glorified part of his job and definitely not part of the dream kids have about being cops. Even Lassiter, who had always thought of himself as having been a sensible kid, had never fantasized about pulling all-nighters to catch up on a backlog of paperwork. But he supposed having the chance to shoot a gun at bad guys was still gratifying enough to put up with the drudgery.

"You've been down all week," Juliet said, looking concerned. Lassiter wasn't sure why she always cared so much, but every so often he would begrudgingly admit that he was glad to have a partner that did. He had never had a partner who had been so concerned with his generally well-being. Not many people would offer to give him a hug on the rare occasions that he did actually need one either.

He'd take that secret to his grave, though. It was easier to be this way.

"Just swamped, O'Hara," came his curt reply. He looked up and saw that she wasn't going to accept that as a good answer to her question. He sighed and looked down at the stack of folders on his desk. It was looking like he'd be there all night and he was definitely not looking forward to it. "Fine. I'm having doubts about Mark Field's motive."

Juliet's eyes went big suddenly before she quickly regained her composure. "Really?"

Lassiter nodded. "His prints are all over the place. But I talked with a few of the gallery contacts he said Roma gave him and all of them said the same thing: she was really trying to help him out."

"Well, we're waiting for an autopsy report on Roma's body from the coroner, but I don't think the palette knife is actually the murder weapon."

Lassiter looked up.

"The impact points on her body weren't deep enough," Juliet replied, shrugging.

"Spencer seems to think the guard is innocent too," Lassiter remarked casually.

Juliet smirked as she raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but you never listen to what Shawn says."

"I don't buy into the theatrics, O'Hara," Lassiter replied quickly, glaring at her. "But as of the moment, we don't have a better option. And we've got other cases."

Juliet nodded, realizing that Lassiter was effectively shutting down the possibility of further discussion on the matter. Lassiter handed her half of his stack and got to work on the absurd amount of paperwork that had accrued in his absence from his desk. Sleep was looking unlikely at this point.

----

Shawn tossed a tennis ball against the wall, barely noticing Gus's irritated glare as he concentrated on all of the evidence he'd seen so far in the Roma case.

"Shawn, you're going to leave dents in the wall," Gus admonished, folding his arms in annoyance.

Shawn caught the ball. "Gus, it's not like this is made of stone. The walls will be fine."

"Fine, but if we don't get the deposit back on this place, that's coming out of your pocket."

Shawn tossed the ball over to Gus, who wasn't prepared for it as it hit him in the head. "Oh, catch!"

Gus threw the ball back at him hard, pelting him in the chest.

"Dude! You threw that way harder than I did!" Shawn yelped, rubbing his chest where the ball had impacted him.

"You know how I feel about balls hitting me in the head," Gus replied, instantly regretting his choice of words.

Shawn's face lit up. "No, I don't actually. Care to enlighten me?"

Gus shook his head. "That's it. I'm going home."

"Gus, c'mon. You set yourself up for that one, man." Shawn stood up and stretched, yawning hugely. Sleep sounded nice, but he knew his mind was reeling too much to even think about heading for bed yet.

"They've got the murderer, Shawn. They did it without us, so we're not getting our consultant fee. Which means I'm working for free right now. And my time is too valuable to just give it away."

"What, are you missing Extreme Home Makeover or something?" Shawn asked glancing at the clock on the wall.

"You know that's not on tonight," Gus replied, again regretting admitting that he actually watched the show.

"Plus, I know you DVR them anyway."

"I'm leaving." Gus turned and headed towards the door.

"Don't be such a Sour Patch Kid. We've got to go back to Roma's studio," Shawn said, hoping to calm down his best friend enough to get him to drive him over to the studio.

His hand on the doorknob, Gus stopped and looked back. "I don't want to go down there, Shawn. It's late. And I've got a meeting with two new potential clients tomorrow."

"Oh…well, if you're too busy to go down there, you're probably too busy to catch up on last night's episode of The Biggest Loser," Shawn said, a slightly menacing tone to his voice.

Gus raised an eyebrow. "So? I'll watch it tomorrow. Which you should've guessed I'd do since you know I DVR my favorite shows."

Shawn pulled his iphone from his back pocket and poked at the screen. "I also know how to link your DVR to my phone…so I can control whether or not you get to keep your precious feel-good reality shows or whether they're good to be trashed."

Gus's hand left the doorknob. "You're bluffing."

Looking at his phone, Shawn scrolled through several screens. "Do you really DVR America's Next Top Model? What is it with you and reality shows?"

Gus quickly ran over to Shawn's chair and attempted to grab the phone out of Shawn's hands. Shawn powered it down and licked the screen. Recoiling, Gus took a step back. "Why do you always lick things when I try to grab them from you?"

"Because I know you're too anal-retentive to take anything from me that my tongue has touched," Shawn quipped, grinning widely. "Except Becky Lawson in 10th grade." Gus frowned, not wanting to reminisce about that particular high school memory. "Fine, you can have it your way."

"You're either offering to make me a burger or you've finally decided to join me on a trip down to the studio?"

Folding his arms, Gus stood there, looking indignant. "I'll go with you to the studio, but I expect to be in bed by a reasonable time tonight."

"Don't worry, Gus. I'll have you home before you turn back into a pumpkin." Shawn grabbed his jacket and the two headed out.

----

"What exactly are we looking for, Shawn?" Gus asked as he watched his friend poke around Roma's computer desk, reading the various bits of paper she'd stored away in the drawers.

"Sidney Roma was killed by someone she knew. This same person is the one who took that Jasper Johns painting," Shawn replied. He pulled out a folder and started combing over the contents. "Lassie said her work reminded him of some guy named Rauschenberg?"

Shawn saw that his friend was considering this information. "That's interesting," Gus said finally.

"That's all? You're the one who knows about all of this art stuff." Unsatisfied with that folder, he kept digging through the drawers.

"No, I mean, he's right. The collage work especially. I think she also did a piece that was an homage to his _Bed_."

"To his bed?"

Gus shook his head, realizing Shawn had misunderstood him. "No, _Bed _was a mixed media piece Rauschenberg made by painting on bed linens."

Just as Shawn had been sure there was some connection between Dante and Roma, he was certain that whatever the connection was between Johns and Rauschenberg would be vital to understanding the motive behind whoever killed Sidney Roma. As he looked through the drawer, he pulled out all of the files until he was at the very bottom. Mostly the files had been full of business receipts, tax documents, all very uninteresting things. Shawn rummaged through the files one more time, hoping to come upon some interesting scrap that he hadn't seen before.

"Seems to me like you're chasing windmills here, Shawn," Gus said as he inspected a larger painting that was sitting in a corner.

Shawn looked over, amused by Gus's choice of words. "Sounds like someone's been re-reading the classics." He picked up another file as a pen rolled off the side of the desk fell into the open drawer. It made a hollow thud as it hit the bottom.

Shawn tapped the bottom again, hearing the hollow thud again. He smiled, knowing this was exactly what he'd been looking for. He pulled the drawer completely free of the desk and set it on top, pulling up the fake bottom.

"What did you find?" Gus asked, coming over to see what was at the bottom of the drawer.

Shawn saw that the bottom held only a few papers, business cards, and a single red folder. The folder's tab was marked with a pitchfork symbol and inside was a list of cities with either asterisks, lines crossing them out, or no marks whatsoever. Next to Santa Barbara, however, was a phone number and a question mark that had been drawn over several times.

"Gus, do you know what museums Dante had hit?" Shawn asked, looking over the sheet. There were only twenty cities on the list, with the majority of them being in California.

Gus looked up, trying to remember. "Besides Santa Barbara, the only places where Dante's work has been found was…Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle…Portland--"

Shawn consulted the sheet, "San Diego, Sacramento, Las Vegas, and Vancouver?"

Gus nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Handing the sheet over to Gus, Shawn pointed at the cities that had been crossed off. "She was keeping track. Santa Barbara hadn't been crossed off yet. Those cities with asterisks must either mean that she had already put a painting there or she was about to."

"But there's also a number and a question mark next to Santa Barbara," Gus said as he looked at the sheet again while Shawn looked at the other bits from the drawer.

"That number…is it 805.555.7608?" Shawn said, holding up a business card.

"Yeah…whose number is it?" Gus asked, noticing that Shawn was holding onto a white business card with simple black lettering.

"It's Frederick Hofstein's, Gus. It's the museum director's number." Shawn frowned, looking at the card in his hand. He wasn't sure how he was going to get in to see this guy, but he knew that he absolutely needed to now. Especially if he wanted to clear Mark Field.

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n:** this is an updated chapter 6, sorry for any possible confusion!

* * *

Frederick Hofstein was a hard man to track down. Not physically, but finding an opening in his busy schedule was nearly impossible. And demanding to talk to the museum director wasn't something that a regular person could just waltz into the museum and do whenever they felt like it.

Then again, Shawn wasn't exactly a regular person. That and the fact that Frederick Hofstein had a standing lunch reservation for the same restaurant every Tuesday meant Shawn had a way to bypass the whole "make an appointment" issue he would've otherwise run into.

Gus, having felt too uncomfortable to crash the museum director's lunch plans as a patron of the arts and museum member, had opted to stay in the car while Shawn slipped into the restaurant. He slid into the empty chair across from Hofstein just after the man's drink had been served.

The older man looked up through round spectacles, clearly perturbed by the interruption. "Can I help you?"

Shawn nodded. "I'm Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic for the SBPD."

Hofstein's face softened, but the annoyance was still there. Shawn didn't care, he was used to seeing this quality in people's faces. "Are you here about the missing Johns work?"

"Not exactly. I got a strong vibe that you were connected somehow to Sidney Roma."

Shawn got the confirmation that Hofstein knew exactly who she was with a brief flicker of uncertainty that flashed across the man's face. "Yes, I heard she was murdered by one of our guards. So tragic."

"Did you know Sidney Roma?" Shawn asked.

Hofstein nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Barely. But she was a talented artist."

"You have one of her paintings in your museum, right?"

Again, Hofstein nodded. "We do, we have a few works by current Californian artists of merit. But I don't handle acquisitions."

Shawn smiled. "I actually don't want to talk about Sidney Roma at all. Do you know Dante?"

At this, Hofstein's face lit up. "He's one of the most exciting artists to debut in the last decade. I was delighted when I found he'd chosen our museum to display his work."

"Except, he didn't just 'choose' your museum, did he?" Shawn asked, taking note of how the director's face fell at the accusation.

Hofstein shook his head and looked away. "I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to say here, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn held two fingers to his forehead and looked directly at Frederick Hofstein. "I think you knew all about the piece being placed in your museum."

Looking around nervously, the museum director leaned in towards Shawn. "Yes, Dante and I had been in contact. But only because one of my curators put me in touch with him."

"Which curator?" Shawn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Madeleine Perkins. She put me in touch with Dante, but I never met the man face to face. And for whatever reason, he used a voice distorter the few times we spoke on the phone," Hofstein said. "It was rather charming, the whole spectacle of it."

"So you never met Dante?"

Hofstein shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. "No, nor would I have wanted to. The art is in the anonymity and the act."

"But your curator has?" Hofstein considered. "It seems as though Ms. Perkins and Dante had some sort of history that she had alluded to when she proposed the idea of getting a Dante work for the museum. I would've preferred to have it happen organically, but having a piece in our museum is really fantastic considering we're one of the smaller museums in the state. Works like Dante's give our museum more gravitas in the art world."

Shawn nodded and looked around the restaurant. "Is Madeleine Perkins working today?"

Hofstein shrugged. "I'm not in charge of the schedules."

Shawn got up from his seat. "Thanks for…speaking with me."

The museum director looked contemplative before finally saying something. "Since you're a psychic…do you know who Dante actually is?"

Shawn frowned and nodded. "Unfortunately, I think everyone will soon."

The older man sighed. "A shame to come out so early in his career."

Shawn left the restaurant and took the opportunity of spotting an oblivious Gus to sneak up on his friend. Gus was typing something out on his Blackberry (work had finally upgraded him) and didn't see Shawn slowly rise up in the driver's side window. Looking over, Gus finally noticed Shawn and it was a good two seconds before the neurons fired and Gus dropped his phone, letting out a high-pitched scream. Lucky for the both of them, the window had been up. It at least saved Gus the embarrassment of anyone hearing his girly scream.

Shawn went around to the passenger's side and got in the car, surprised Gus hadn't locked the door in retribution.

"Why did you do that, Shawn?" Gus asked, looking thoroughly pissed off.

Shawn smirked. "Temptation, my friend."

"You're lucky I'm still giving you a ride after that."

"C'mon Gus. You know the closest bus stop is like a mile away from here. And I parch easily. I could die of thirst. Would you really want that on your conscience?"

"Did you talk with the museum director?" Gus asked, changing the subject as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yeah. He has no clue who Dante is, but said one of the curators put him in touch with Dante."

"Which curator?"

Shawn thought. "Madeleine Perkins?"

Gus looked over. "That name sounds familiar."

"Well, Perkins is a family restaurant that serves a pretty decent slice of pie."

Gus shook his head, exasperated already. "No, I've heard that name before. I think she's an artist too."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Who isn't an artist in this town?"

"She did a show a few months ago…it didn't get a very good reception."

"So we've got a disgruntled museum curator that's trying to be an artist. Who knows a woman who is getting tons of attention as an anonymous street artist in addition to having work in the permanent collection of the museum where the curator works."

Gus looked over at Shawn. "That sounds like motive."

"You bet your sweet ass it does. Let's go stop off at the station and see if we can't give them a nudge in a better direction here."

"Fine, but I've got an appointment with a client at two, so no hitting on O'Hara or annoying Lassiter." If Gus hadn't been driving, Shawn was sure he would have seriously folded his arms.

"Strictly business, _mon ami_. You'll get to your fancy schmancy client meeting with plenty of time to spare."

"I better. Dr. McAllister is always early. Which means I have to be there earlier than him."

Shawn shook his head. "Some sort of _Art of War _thing?"

"No, he's got Irritable Bowel Syndrome and likes to get things over with quickly," Gus replied.

"That sounds crappy," Shawn said, smirking at his pun.

Gus looked ahead at the road, but pointed a finger at his choice of words, clearly not amused by them.

----

O'Hara walked up to Lassiter's desk and threw down a manila folder with a triumphant smile on her face.

Lassiter looked up, looking equal parts tired and cranky.

"Got the autopsy report," she said, beaming.

"I don't see why you're so happy about this, O'Hara."

She opened the folder to the tox report and pointed out to him what she was so excited about. "The palette knife wounds were superficial like we thought. The cause of death was anaphylaxis."

Lassiter looked over the report and frowned. "Severe allergic reaction?"

"She also had an elevated BAC at the time of death," O'Hara supplied, looking down at the report.

"This still doesn't clear Mark Field. It just changes how he killed her," Lassiter replied, standing up from his seat. "What was she allergic to?"

"Peanuts. Which is interesting because Mark Field also has a peanut allergy. So I asked him if there was an EpiPen in the studio and he said there were three in Roma's desk."

"Were there?"

"None," replied O'Hara. "Which means that this was a calculated, personal murder. And not the crime of passion we were meant to think it was."

Lassiter looked doubtful, but picked up the file and looked at it again.

"There are other prints in that studio that forensics lifted," Juliet offered.

"We don't have the resources to run all of them, though. We need to narrow this down before moving on it," Lassiter replied, setting the file down on his desk. He stood up and stretched, his shoulders making a satisfying popping sound. "I'm going to get some coffee."

Juliet nodded and went back to her desk. There were always other cases she could be working on, especially since they seemed to have run into a dead end with this one. Before she sat down, she noticed Shawn and Gus had entered the station and were looking around eagerly.

Shawn made a beeline for Lassiter's desk with Gus flanking. He sat on the edge of the desk, looking behind him at the file that sat open. He quickly took a mental note of the coroner's report, noticing the asphyxiation due to anaphylaxis and Roma's stomach contents.

"Dude," Shawn whispered to Gus. "If this Madeleine Perkins person did know Sidney Roma, she totally would've known what she was allergic to."

"Were there any EpiPens in the desk when you looked through it?" Gus asked, considering.

"I didn't notice any."

"It doesn't make sense that someone that allergic to peanuts wouldn't keep an EpiPen in a place where they spent a lot of time," Gus replied.

Shawn nodded. "Unless someone knew where she kept them and got rid of them so she couldn't do anything about it."

"That's low."

"Yeah. Which is why we've got to get on this case and figure out how Madeleine Perkins knew Sidney Roma."

"Spencer, get off my desk," came Lassiter's annoyed voice as he rounded the corner, holding a cup of coffee.

Shawn stood up and grinned. "Lassie, you're looking dapper today."

Lassiter rolled his eyes and grabbed the folder off his desk. "O'Hara and I have a meeting with the Chief, so take your sideshow somewhere else."

Shawn pretended to be hurt. "C'mon, Lassie. I don't think you appreciate just how hard those circus folk work."

Lassiter refused to get sucked into a conversation with Shawn and instead walked briskly towards Chief Vick's office. Juliet noticed him walking that way and quickly joined him, but Shawn and Gus followed swiftly behind, having no intention of going anywhere but the Chief's office.

As soon as the four of them were in the room, Shawn decided to have a vision, just to cut to the chase before Lassiter handed the Chief the file he was carrying. "I see a monocle and a cane. No…a top hat. A big ol' legume--"

Juliet frowned. "Shawn, what are you talk--" Shawn held his hand out to silence her. "George Washington Carver. Jimmy Carter."

"Peanuts?" Gus supplied finally.

"Sidney Roma was murdered with peanuts," Shawn said finally, dropping his hands to his side. "And I'm seeing that none of her EpiPens were where they were supposed to be."

Lassiter handed the file over to the chief with this statement. "Sidney Roma had a severe peanut allergy, her murderer knew this and took advantage of it."

"What are you saying detective?"

"Neither O'Hara nor I believe Mark Field killed Roma. Especially since he apparently also has a severe peanut allergy," Lassiter replied, crossing his arms.

"What about the EpiPens?" Vick asked, looking at O'Hara.

Juliet frowned. "Mark Field said there were three in Roma's desk, but CSU didn't find any when they swept the studio."

Shawn gave Gus a discrete fist bump upon hearing confirmation of his guess about the EpiPens.

Chief Vick looked over at Shawn, clearly interested in what he had to say. "Mr. Spencer, are you getting any vibes about this?"

"The spirit world is practically doing the Cha Cha, Chief. Mark Field isn't the murderer," Shawn said, walking towards the Chief's desk.

"Fantastic. Do you know who is?"

At this, Shawn swallowed. He held two fingers to the side of his head again and closed his eyes. Feigning a look of exasperation, he shook his head. "The spirits have a lot of opinions today. I'm seeing…a shower scene. Chocolate sauce…no. Anthony Perkins? Perkins family restaurant?" Shawn looked over at Lassiter. "Does somebody want some pie?"

While everyone else in the room looked like they were nearing the end of their tolerance for Shawn's conjectures, Juliet's face lit up. "One of the curators I interviewed was named Madeleine Perkins."

"That's it. Madeleine Perkins and Sidney Roma went way back. They knew each other," Shawn replied.

Vick raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you're officially on this case, Mr. Spencer. Detectives, I want you to find out a little more about Ms. Perkins before moving on this one. I want to know how far back they went before you bring her in for questioning."

Lassiter and Juliet left the office first, with Shawn and Gus following.

"I've got to go to my meeting," Gus said, looking at a clock on the wall worriedly.

"Can you drop me off somewhere first?"

"The museum?" Gus asked, already knowing what Shawn was up to.

Shawn nodded. "Hopefully Madeleine Perkins is working today."

_tbc_


End file.
